Gums of The Navaronne

I went to the dentist yesterday to get a filling replaced. Apparently the thing crapped out after the warranty expired. Isn't that always how it happens?

My dentist only uses white composite fillings, so I get charged extra by the insurance company, whose belief it is that I if the filling is in the back of my mouth and can't be seen, then terminator-shiny-metal is good enough for me.

My dentist office is a small purple building, with just about the most difficult approach and departure paths I've ever been subjected to. Entering the parking lot, which is in the rear, involves a wide swerve into oncoming traffic followed immediately by a super-sharp turn into an alley that is all brick walls on both sides. The receptionist has told me that dozens of people have hit the walls. I haven't, yet, but I can see lots of chipped evidence that she is not lying.

And getting out is even more fun. A completely blind right turn onto a busy street. You cannot see if a car is coming until at least three feet of your front fascia is committed out onto the road. It is amazing that I haven't been hit yet. And I pity any person walking on that sidewalk, because they would simply be invisible to me.

But I risk it, because my dentist is nice and seems to know what he is doing. And he pipes in rock music instead of Musak. And he has really groovy mobiles hanging up over the chairs that you can space out to while he works.

Yesterday he seemed a bit off his game though, and the drill was pretty painful, even after two shots of Novocain. Maybe he missed the nerve, or perhaps the cost of anesthetic is going up and he's cutting it with soda water.

But now I have a shiny new white filling, ready for bruscetta and tacos and Thai beef and gumbo. I hope it knows what's in store for it.